


Spread Thy Wings

by Blue_Sparkle



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Crack Treated Seriously, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Angst, Misunderstandings, Pick and Choose your own efforts for most of it, Smut, Wing Kink, extremely mild angst, post armageddon, the working title was alleged wing kink fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 05:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21386758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle
Summary: After everything they've been through, Crowley worries that he might accidentally get Aziraphale sick with each loving touch, now that they are together at last. After all a demon has Hell all over their body, and Hell's touch is harmful to angels. So while he works on a solution for that problem he can at least keep an eye on the state of Aziraphale's wings to make sure he's not hurt.Aziraphale, meanwhile, gets the dawning suspicion that Crowley might indeed have a wing kink.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 429





	Spread Thy Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, here's my attempt to combine my own fondness of wing kink and trying to make this trope less about Crowley hating himself and more an actual reasonable-ish worry? 
> 
> Enjoy!

The bookshop was newly restored, with nary a speck of ash to hint at what had happened there just two days ago. It looked, for all intents and purposes, exactly like one would expect of a little shop that had been open for roughly two hundred years. The occult and ethereal beings who had been around for all of those years might perhaps find differences. Books that didn’t belong to the collection of one with the tastes of a middle aged man looking being. A burned section of floorboard that was the result of an ill advised attempt at making fondue in 1835 had turned into strangely patterned but undamaged wood. A few romance books sneakily squirrelled away by the owner were relocated to the rarely used bedside table in the equally infrequently used bedroom.

Though those were changes that would be discovered in the following days and months. For now, neither the angel nor the demon had a mind for looking over the superficially unchanged shop.

It was late afternoon, and evening was just starting to settle in. Deep in the bookshop, past any section customers wandered through on accident (or through effort of the owner to keep them out), barely any light reached the cosy sofa. It wasn’t a very sunny day to begin with, but the rows upon rows of bookshelves blocked out most of the light from the windows, and the angle of the sun wasn’t right to pour through the skylight.

In the silvery black twilight a human might be stumped to see and navigate even familiar spaces. To the two beings currently on the sofa it merely provided an additional layer of privacy and created just the right conditions to set the mood.

Aziraphale sighed softly as he relaxed into the soft cushions, eyes closed and kiss-swollen lips parted in pleasure. Crowley’s gentle touches had rid them both of quite a few clothes, leaving Aziraphale bare from the waist up and Crowley in just his jeans and sleeveless top. A perfect expanse of the palest golden skin was presented to the demon, begging to be touched and kissed and explored. And he was never one to deny Aziraphale’s begging, be it spoken or implied.

“Oh my darling,” Aziraphale groaned, his body writhing slightly in Crowley’s hold, hips lifting off the sofa slightly as he arched up.

Crowley didn’t interrupt the trail of kisses he placed on Aziraphale’s soft stomach, just glanced up to take in the lazy contentedness on his angel’s face. They had been in a hurry earlier as they kissed, leading to swollen lips and a quickly healed cut where Crowley had accidentally bitten down too hard. Now there was no rush needed. They could take their time, and Crowley intended to enjoy his angel and see just how much pleasure he could wring out of him.

He ran his hands over Aziraphale’s body, and delighted in the solid heat under his palms. Just one day ago he had feared that he would never get to see Aziraphale ever again, that he had lost him to hellfire. And then again, the worry of having his dearest angel killed by other angels no less, walking into that very same fire gladly just to know he was safe.

The heels of Crowley’s hands reached the waistband of Aziraphale’s trousers, button already opened in their earlier make out session. The tips of his fingers dug into soft angelic flesh slightly, and Crowley paused.

There was nothing in the world he loved more than his angel, not a single thing. And much as his angel stood above anything Heaven represented, and much as he himself had broken away from Hell, there still was no denying their natures. An angel of Heaven and a demon of Hell, no matter their alignments, were still creatures of their domain, still vulnerable and strong in the same ways as before.

Crowley had nearly lost Aziraphale to the very essence of what Hell was, to the same fire that was part of Crowley’s occult body, for better or worse.

Had there ever been an angel and a demon in love before? Doubtful. Had there even been an angel and a demon engaging in carnal activities besides them? Now that was a question best only pondered while very drunk and discussed at a college party after 3 AM.

Still, it was most likely unprecedented, and who was to say what a demon’s touch, inevitably tainted by Hell, could do to an angel?

As Crowley stared at his hands, and he could just imagine the dark filth of Hell seeping out of his skin and spreading over Aziraphale’s skin, staining him like soot where Crowley had caressed him so gently, sinking through his body and into his celestial essence. It would settle there, taint and hurt and cause damage at best and ignite the process to Fall or worse-

He’d be damned- blessed-

He would never forgive himself if such a pure act as making love to his angel would lead to Crowley hurting Aziraphale in any way. Not after all they’d been through.

“Love? Is this alright?”

Crowley glanced up to see Aziraphale look down at him, cheeks flushed and brow furrowed slightly. He realized that he must have stared at his hands for quite a while now, and Aziraphale had surely noticed that something was amiss.

With a crooked smile Crowley’s fingers curled around the angel’s waistband.

“Let me see your wings, angel,” he said, voice rough.

Aziraphale blinked in confusion once, then returned the smile coyly and propped himself up on his elbows. With a rush of displaced air two pure white wings spread as wide as the limited space permitted. They flexed and settled comfortably around them, shielding them from the outside world.

A celestial being’s wings were the easiest way to access their actual core, their bodies one step to the side of perceivable reality. If anything was wrong with the very essence of an angel, what made them who they were beyond their corporation, the wings would indicate this.

Crowley let out a breath at he saw the beautiful and healthy and undamaged feathers. Then he grinned and tugged at Aziraphale’s trousers and underwear to get to his goal. He had a task to fulfil after all.

*

A healthy sex life was never quite on the forefront of Aziraphale’s mind, nor did individual preferences and peculiar interests feature in his idle thoughts for that matter. He was aware of things, of course. One did not live through six millennia of human life to end up running a bookshop in Soho through two centuries with a store selling erotic goods next door without picking up a thing or two.

While perhaps not participating in human relationships, Aziraphale was dimly aware that established couples of any kind tended to figure out their own preferences. Movies, he had quickly decided, were rather bad in displaying actual real human relations. Romantic books of the raunchier kind, while absolutely making Aziraphale’s toes curl and fed into his fantasies, also seemed exaggerated in what was going on in the privacy of a bedroom (or any place one might think of).

There were things Aziraphale figured out himself in the months of his and Crowley’s relationship reaching a new stage. The layered construction of their relationship was rounded up by the relief of freedom to do as they wished, with romantic love out in the open and displays of affection as well as sexual encounters added on to the deep friendship they shared.

Aziraphale learned that he was ticklish if Crowley touched his sides too lightly, and that he adored sinking his fingers into Crowley’s hair to keep his head in place, wherever that might be at the moment. He learned that while being pushed face first over a horizontal surface and fucked in harsh thrusts lead to the most exquisite spike of pleasure, generally the overall experience was much better when he could face and hold Crowley. He learned that Crowley absolutely lost his composure when Aziraphale took charge, but adored providing for his angel selflessly. He knew where to touch and kiss, and what he liked and what didn’t quite work for him.

He also knew that there was still so much to learn. It wasn’t as if they were constantly at it, after all. Or every day even. Even after millennia of knowing one another a few months weren’t nearly enough to truly learn someone’s entire array of sexual preferences.

What Aziraphale knew for sure was that he adored sleeping with Crowley in whatever way. Even the less physically satisfying encounters still were drenched in love so sweet and tender that Aziraphale’s heart ached with it. Where he had once made do with coyly drawn out flirts and an air of plausible deniability, he now had learned to crave Crowley’s touches to burn proof of his love against Aziraphale’s skin. No matter how Crowley squirmed and flushed at that description, they were _making love_, and Aziraphale had grown quite addicted to the affection of it.

How Aziraphale had lived through millennia with the only show of love being subtle smiles and acts of kindness, he didn’t know. By now he was sure that he would surely wither from heartache if he could not have Crowley’s touch and the sweetest words whispered into his ear. Aziraphale had always been a creature of love and light, but now he felt like he was truly understanding what those feelings were supposed to be like.

In exploring each other’s preferences Aziraphale quickly gathered that there was very little Crowley would outright ask for in the throes of pleasure. There hadn’t really been anything that Aziraphale disliked so far, but it seemed that Crowley worried anything he requested would be denied. Perhaps they would reach such a moment eventually, but so far anything Aziraphale hadn’t been explicitly into was mild. They were things like urging Aziraphale to grip and pull at his hair, shifting Aziraphale’s hips in a slightly uncomfortable position to chase that last bit needed for his own release, requesting that Aziraphale hook his legs over Crowley’s shoulders or hold onto the headboard or… All just a small moment of discomfort, more than drowned out by the joy of watching Crowley lose himself in his own pleasure. Nothing he’d oppose, even if it took some effort to get his body to bend as easily as Crowley.

Very little of it was something Aziraphale took note of beyond the moment. Sometimes if Crowley asked for the same thing more than once Aziraphale would remember and do what his demon needed without prompting, and in return he noticed that Crowley memorized his own sensitive areas or preferred touches.

While inexperienced in practice, Aziraphale had spent millennia among humans, consumed their erotic literature, not to mention had lived in Soho for the past centuries. He knew of more specific sexual interests, peculiar acts that needed to be negotiated and which made it necessary to seek out like-minded individuals. He knew he had his own interests that might be classified as kinks, though he hadn’t decided whether it was just a theoretical curiosity or whether to eventually bring them up to Crowley.

There were a few things that occasionally crossed his mind when Aziraphale tried to think of anything specific he might be into himself. He would bring it up, if something particularly interesting crossed his mind, but somehow they always ended up in what Aziraphale understood to be pretty conventional positions. Such as now, with Crowley spread out under him and Aziraphale on top, taking his pleasure at his own pace.

Aziraphale rolled his hips, his entire body shifting with the motion. His hands clenched hard against Crowley’s chest each time his clit rubbed against Crowley’s pelvic bone or when his cock hit a particularly nice spot. The air was filled with the creak of their bed and the duet of groans of pleasure. Crowley lay back against the pillows, breathing hard and letting Aziraphale take his pleasure, relaxing back with his hands resting on the angel’s thighs.

His eyes were closed until Aziraphale’s body twitched with a soft cry as he felt Crowley’s cock hit his sweet spot. Fully demonic eyes flew open at the sound and Crowley let out a whimper.

“Angel,” he hissed, tongue flicking past his lips nervously. “Angel can you- could you-”

Aziraphale paused, catching his breath, waiting for the request. Crowley’s face was more flushed than before, and he waited patiently for what his demon wanted. Sitting so still was difficult, but it was so little compared to knowing they both had the best possible experience.

“Your wings,” Crowley finally said, licking his bottom lip. “Can I see them?”

With the softest smile Aziraphale whispered an “of course”.

A rush of air and his wings spread behind him, displayed in their full glory. He puffed out his chest with a slight shift of his hips, making sure his entire body, corporeal and celestial, were on the best possible display for his mate.

Crowley’s eyes fixed on the pure white of Aziraphale’s feathers, moaning. His hands flew up and clenched against the soft flesh of his hips, digging in hard enough that Aziraphale felt a delightful pang of pleasure-pain. Suddenly his hiss grew sharper and Crowley thrust his hips up to meet Aziraphale’s, punching a surprised moan out of him. He felt the prick of demonic claws and beat his wings to keep his balance as Crowley picked up his pace, fucking up into him like a man possessed.

Where before his pleasure had been a too hot wave of heat now it was a maelstrom of ecstasy. Aziraphale tried to reach for his clit to chase that final bit of stimulation he needed to get off, but Crowley batted his hand away and took over with such vigour that it knocked a scream out of the angel’s chest. All the better, really, as Aziraphale needed both hands to brace himself against Crowley’s body, lest he lose balance and fall off the bed entirely.

Aziraphale came with a soundless cry, riding out the wave as Crowley pounded into him without showing any signs of stopping. It didn’t take long for him to reach his own completion too, and Aziraphale watched with a half lidded gaze as Crowley threw his head back, mouth falling open. A tension took hold of his body, each line of him taunt, muscles tensing. For a few seconds he held like that, before gasping and dropping against the pillows, arms still around Aziraphale’s waist as the angel let himself drop forwards to snuggle against him.

They caught their breath, unnecessary technically but something they had gotten used to in the throws of passion. Crowley nuzzled against Aziraphale’s throat, hands in his hair and Aziraphale wrapped his arms and wings around him in turn.

“That was wonderful, darling,” he whispered.

Crowley kissed what he could reach of his body lazily, hands stroking through curly white hair.

“You’re beautiful angel,” he hissed sleepily. “Such a pretty angel all for me.”

He was tired, Aziraphale could tell, but Crowley continued whispering praise and affirmations against his skin, things he hadn’t been coherent enough to say while they made love. He didn’t stop as he gently pulled his softening cock out of Aziraphale, or as he cleaned them up just enough to be comfortable with a miracle and tugged the blankets up. Crowley liked to take a nap after lovemaking, and while Aziraphale didn’t necessarily care for it he did enjoy watching over his love like that.

Crowley made himself comfortable and snuggled against Aziraphale’s bare skin.

“Luckiest demon in the world, me,” he muttered finally, and then he was asleep and snoring.

Aziraphale pressed his lips together, cheeks aching with a smile. Tired and slightly sore as he was, he still had the urge to wiggle and kick his legs in giddiness. That might have disturbed Crowley’s slumber though, so he contained himself with gazing at his demon.

Crowley slept and Aziraphale rested and basked in the afterglow. The words, the touches, the entire act of making love made him feel so cherished and soft. It was rare that Crowley showed this much of himself and his love, as he was still learning how to be unafraid. They both were. It was hard to shake habits one carried for millennia, but in bed they were in a new territory and free of pre-existing hang ups. One day they would catch up to showing affection without any hesitation anywhere, Aziraphale was sure of it, but for now this was his favourite thing.

His gaze fell on the way his feathers now rested against Crowley’s skin, and he frowned in thought. Crowley didn’t request he spread his wings every single time, of course, but it was happening with surprising frequency. Especially given how they often got in the way in certain positions, or knocked into items if they weren’t careful (and who could really care to mind their surroundings during sex really). Not only that, but as Crowley had just proven Aziraphale also noticed how his demon tended to become more passionate once he made his request, letting go and losing himself in their tryst.

It hadn’t occurred to Aziraphale before, but Crowley really must enjoy the presence of wings. Or perhaps just Aziraphale’s specifically. It turned him on, clearly, and he requested it more than any other specific thing.

That wasn’t the strangest thing, surely, but Aziraphale blushed at the thought of any part of his body being such a special interest to his demon. It wasn’t the kinkiest thing, nor the most out there. Sure, there was no equivalent for humans, but Aziraphale supposed that Crowley’s love for his wings was similar to how some mortals had fixations on hair, or hands, or perhaps seeing their partner dressed in a very specific way, given how the wings weren’t always around.

Still a little flustered Aziraphale wrapped his wings around Crowley more securely. It wasn’t a problem for him at all, but the sudden realization did make him a little shy, more so than being naked in front of his demon for the first time had. Did Crowley just enjoy the sight, or did he want to touch and kiss as well? Would he eventually work his way up to more detailed requests? Aziraphale couldn’t think of anything that might follow, but then again he’d never considered wings anything special when it came to sex. They were pleasant to touch and preen, but only about as much of a turn on as having your shoulders massaged in a hot bath after a very long day.

Aziraphale, who had never considered himself particularly tempting or good at seduction, wasn’t sure how to process that new revelation just yet. But he was sure that he could find a use for Crowley’s preferences with a tiny bit of creativity.

*

Crowley in some ways considered himself a scientist. Giving knowledge to humanity for a great price was his entire thing after all. He didn’t really need to know most of the common things scientists tried to figure out, as he’d either been there when stuff was created, or had skipped the meeting out of disinterest.

But human question or no, a scientist was meant to ask questions, think outside the box, and be willing to observe evidence, draw conclusions, try to search for a solution over and over with an open mind. That willingness to question the status quo had gotten Crowley in deep trouble before, but it couldn’t quite deter him from asking things anyway. Why was there a great plan, why did they have sides anyway, why did the Almighty test humans if She already knew the results, whose bright idea was Australia anyway?

The current question that bothered Crowley was quite a personal one, rather than his usual existential questioning.

The question being “just how much hellishness does inherently cling to me, and if there’s a lot, how much is too much to hurt Aziraphale?”.

If Crowley did indeed have some cursed stuff all over himself, it could seriously harm a (former) denizen of Heaven. Of course there was a difference in harm, ranging from a mild rash as if from an allergic reaction or too rough clothes, to serious damage to Aziraphale’s celestial body. At their core angels and demons were of the same stock, so it followed that there was a way to either get rid of whatever cursed hellishness Crowley had about him, or a way to keep it from harming the angel, if that failed. Everyone in Hell had once been an angel after all, and they had been fine with the evil of their Hell.

Crowley had the single minded focus to submerge himself in a problem and work on it until he figured something out. Usually that involved schemes on how to break the air conditioning inside the London tube system or mess up highways. But even if it took months, he was sure he could solve his own tangible problems as well. It would probably mean less contact with Aziraphale, but that was probably for the best. The angel was irresistible, if Crowley thought too hard about him, and it was best not to overindulge in touching him for the time being. Not until he had his cure.

The first order of business was to acquire something to measure the general holiness or occult energy of an object. For that Crowley scouted the local communities of witches, occultists, and the occasional Satanist. Very few of them had any real power or contact to demons, but some of their tools of trade actually worked. Armed with candles and pendulums and crystals that didn’t do anything but looked kind of neat Crowley then went on the find things to measure.

Rosaries and tiny icons of saints were the easiest to get. They weren’t really touched by heavenly energy, so they would not harm Crowley, but with cautiously tuned tools they did indicate some measure of holiness. Anything humans put enough faith into would eventually take on that certain aura, even if no angel had so much as glanced in its direction.

Crowley noted down just how much each item made his pendulums pipe up, using a chart he made up himself. Then he created a pocket on the inside of his shirt and stuffed several items of the same kind into it to keep as close to his body as he could through the day. That experiment took a few days, as he took out one object at a time, making sure to check if prolonged contact made a difference, or whether it regained some of its holiness if left alone.

Next came attempts to see if different items made any difference, if putting them in different pockets changed how much holiness was lost. Who knew whether it was his chest or his hands or anything else that made it worse after all? He even went so far as to stuff a tiny amulet into his shoes before deciding that this was too uncomfortable, even in the name of science.

While he put his full focus on the experiments Crowley did have to admit that the changes in energy seemed minuscule. His own senses were no help at all, unfamiliar as they were with doing more than smelling the general air of goodness and honing in on very specific angels. A lack of clear cut results didn’t deter him. If humans could dedicate years and sometimes decades of their mortal lives to solving specific problems, so could he.

So far Crowley’s results indicated that something holy did indeed lose its lustre in his presence, faster than when he just left them alone on his desk. The lack of humans thinking of comfort and faith over these trinkets made them less effective, as they weren’t truly holy after all.

One could probably conclude that a demon rubbing himself all over an angel could lead to similar results, and unlike wood and metal an angel was actually made out of pure holy essence. Wood and metal would remain what they were without that aura, but an angel _was_ holiness at their core.

Limiting contact to Aziraphale would probably slow any accidental hurt Crowley might cause. Staying away from him might make any taint regenerate itself. Having Aziraphale be somewhere holy (such as Heaven, probably), should heal him right up as well. That one would be a bit of a problem, but Crowley was nothing if not resourceful and was certain he could find a way to smuggle him up there on occasion if that really was the only way.

What remained to figure out, was just how much of Hell clung to Crowley, and how long it would take to get rid of it. He would never be a pretty celestial bootlicker with a harp and fancy suit, but if he stayed out of Hell anything that could hurt an angel should rub off eventually. Hopefully.

Crowley stared at the pretty chunks of rose quartz and opal he’d acquired at a kitschy esoteric shop, brooding and trying to come up with a way to test for that, when the shrill ring of his phone startled him out of his chair. For a second he contemplated melting the device for interrupting him like that, before thinking better of it.

“Yes?” he asked lazily after picking up after all, and was greeted with the delighted gasp from his angel.

“Darling! Oh I’m so glad to hear your voice.”

Crowley immediately relaxed back into his throne, smiling fondly. The wire of his phone barely allowed him to get comfortable at that distance, but it was probably too much to ask Aziraphale to remember his mobile phone number so soon after getting it, relatively speaking.

“Angel. To what do I owe you the pleasure of a call?”

He heard shuffling of feet on the other side of the line.

“Well, it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve last seen you, and I didn’t want to bother you in case you were busy or taking one of your long naps. But I was starting to worry- ah. That is, I missed having you around my dear boy.”

Crowley sputtered and stared outside the window, trying to determine what date it was based on what he saw. It didn’t look much different from when he’d last been out and about.

“Must have forgotten the time. Was uh- working on inventions. New plans for large scale nuisances I want to try out. Evil never sleeps and all.”

“I see,” Aziraphale tutted, though he sounded fond. “You know, you could do that here, if you would like. That way we could keep each other company as we each work on our favourite pastimes.”

“Really?” Crowley sat up straight, surprised again. “You’re fine with me working on my wiles in your shop?”

“It’s not like anyone will be checking up on us. I even promise not to try and thwart you.”

There was a pause, comfortable silence over the phone line as they both imagined that sort of luxury.

“Ah. Will I see you soon then?” Aziraphale asked after a while, sounding so very hopeful.

“Of course, angel. I’ll be right over.”

“I’ll prepare your favourite sofa. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Crowley replied, heart leaping in his chest as he heard the line go quiet.

He really did need to figure out how to keep his angel safe. All his previous research was stuffed into one of Crowley’s notebooks and then he was out the door with a last warning glare at his plants. He didn’t drive as fast as he could have, even taking a detour to pop into one of Aziraphale’s favourite bakeries to get him a few cakes. There was no rush anymore, no cut off date on their happiness. 

The bookshop was just as he’d left it, of course. Aziraphale greeted him with a beautiful sunbeam smile and tilted his face up for a kiss as Crowley walked in. He made no comment about closing the door before rain could get in, and while his eyes lit up at the sight of the cardboard cake box, Aziraphale seemed more interested in getting Crowley to follow him to the back of the shop.

The couch, that Crowley usually occupied when he was at the bookshop, had gained a few softer blankets and pillows that smelled faintly of his angel in the past months. It had become even more comfortable and Crowley was certain that he could spent decades sleeping on it, if that wouldn’t have meant missing out on Aziraphale’s company.

He sank down into it and Aziraphale sat next to him, legs drawn up onto the couch and smiling. He looked so comfortable, wearing slippers instead of shoes and coat shed to leave him in a waistcoat and shirt. His angel held the cake box in one hand and a single fork in the other.

“You’ve brought me such a lovely treat,” Aziraphale said, spinning the fork between his fingers slowly so that it was pointing towards Crowley. “We should share it.”

“I got them for you,” Crowley said with a soft smile, not accepting the fork. “You should eat them yourself.”

“But I can’t decide where to start,” Aziraphale pouted. He glanced at the small array of cakes and then at the fork, before giving Crowley a look from beneath his eyelashes. “Won’t you pick one for me?”

For a moment Crowley wondered whether he should offer to feed Aziraphale the sweets. The angel in his lap, enjoying the cakes Crowley absolutely knew he’d adore, perhaps even willing to be distracted long enough to share kisses and let Crowley get a taste of cream and berries and sugar that usually was far too sweet for him.

But no, that would be too much, too distracting for the both of them. Distracting Aziraphale from his food and Crowley from his purpose, mind still filled with half formed solutions to his problem.

“Enjoy your treat, angel,” Crowley said with a smile. “I’ll fetch that tea you mentioned.”

Crowley slid off the couch easily and made his way to Aziraphale’s kitchenette. The tea was indeed waiting on a tray, so Crowley added milk and honey into Aziraphale’s, and a squeeze of lemon into his own. He knew exactly how his angel preferred his drinks, and how he insisted that using a miracle to get it perfect wouldn’t feel the same.

When he returned Aziraphale was sitting up all prim and proper once more, mouth full of cake but looking somewhat less enthused than he had been a moment ago. He did brighten when Crowley set down the tea and then slipped his sunglasses into a pocket.

Crowley put on one of Aziraphale’s favourite old records of classical music, not quite to Crowley’s taste but exactly what his angel liked to listen to as he relaxed at home. As the orchestral tunes filled the bookshop Crowley plopped down on Aziraphale’s armchair and dug out his notebook. The writing was a mix of several languages, occult and human, long dead, and Crowley’s own shorthand. While he didn’t want to worry Aziraphale with the topic of his research he knew that the angel wouldn’t be able to make sense of his notes, even if he did sneak a look. It would probably be more comfortable to work like this, in the comfortable seat and in the same room.

Aziraphale finished his meal quickly and sipped his tea. When he was done he stood, hovering between Crowley and the gramophone for a few seconds, before shaking his head and moving over to his little desk. There was a stack of books there to examine and repair, and Crowley privately rejoiced at the ability to just work on their own things in the same space. There was no need to speak or share an activity; they could just be comfortable in each other’s presence.

The evening slipped into night with music filling the space. The slightly scratchy sound of an old record was a welcome backdrop to Crowley’s thoughts as he went through his notes again, double checking all of his findings and conclusions. Occasionally he would hear his angel hum or shuffle papers, the soft clink of tools and the shift of soft gloves over old leather as Aziraphale worked on fixing some old book he’d acquired.

Crowley was so busy with his notes that it took him a few moments to notice the angel had stopped working and had instead moved over to his armchair. Aziraphale smiled down on him fondly, hands folded together and toying with the ring on his pinkie.

“It is quite late now, darling,” he said as Crowley turned his full attention to him. “I know how you like your sleep. Would you like to come upstairs with me?”

Crowley blinked slowly, reassessing how much time must have passed. He hadn’t really slept much in the past weeks, and even then only to try and see if a power nap would help him come up with new ideas. Fresh mind and all that.

“You don’t have to pretend to sleep for me, angel,” he said, smiling. It really was quite sweet that Aziraphale stayed with him the few times they ended up in bed late and Crowley fell asleep. He woke either to the angel watching him, reading a book, or looking mildly bored and at a loss of what to do.

“You keep me company when I eat and you aren’t hungry,” Aziraphale replied. “It’s only fair if I join you in your own favourite human pastime.”

“I’m not really tired right now. Some other time, if it’s not going to bore you, perhaps?”

Aziraphale’s hands stilled and his brow furrowed in worry. He shifted in place for a moment and then shook his head.

“Of course, dear. I’ll ah- there are a few books I’ve been meaning to rearrange upstairs. In my flat. Come join you me if you do change your mind.”

“Sure thing, angel.”

Aziraphale turned to walk towards the staircase leading up, throwing one final glance over his shoulder. He paused again, then offered Crowley a soft smile and was gone.

Crowley felt his heart swell with affection as he watched him go, fingers curling around the pages of his notebook. It really ought to seem strange, being so domestic with an angel. But even if it would probably take him a while to fully wrap his mind around this being real, it already felt better than anything he could have imagined.

The following days were spent nearly entirely in the corner of Aziraphale’s bookshop. Crowley barely left his seat for more than a few minutes, though occasionally he would wander around with his notes and throw discarded pieces of torn paper on the ground. He took up space and muttered and ignored the customers who threw him weird glances or frowned at the mess he created as he walked. Some even looked as if they were about to complain about the strange man in the bookshop, but Aziraphale merely smiled sweetly and acted as if this was perfectly normal for his shop.

Sometimes his angel would pop out to go on a walk or visit a bakery, always bringing back something for Crowley who would chew on whatever snack there was as he worked. He’d never spent this much time in the shop at once, with worries of being found dampening the mood, or Aziraphale hinting heavily at wanting to be left alone with his books. For now Aziraphale was surprisingly tolerant of the demon lurking in his personal space. Perhaps it was that Crowley was indeed very focused on his own work, rather than distracting Aziraphale from his own. Best not get in his way, then.

Crowley was pondering whether or not he could sneakily get one of Aziraphale’s feathers to try some more accurate tests when the angel moved past him with a dusty old box.

“I quite forgot how many records I still had in storage,” he exclaimed, flipping through them and finally picking out one to put into his gramophone. “This one is simply delightful.”

A slow tune filled the air, reminding Crowley of a waltz that must have been popular a little less than two hundred years ago. Aziraphale listened for a few moments, swaying slightly and smiling to himself.

“Marvellous. Do you remember when this variation was all the rage? So lovely. I never did learn to dance it myself, I fear. Have you ever thought about dancing it, my darling?”

Crowley remembered young eligible women boldly trying to ask him to dance, along with the occasional man. He’d quite enjoyed the times of strict social rules, professionally speaking. The wrong word in the right ear, a perceived slight, an obvious acquaintance not greeted, a brief distraction to keep someone from following their manners? So little work leading to so much wrath and feuds between otherwise proper and polite people. It had been fun.

“Not really, angel. Don’t think your lot back then danced. And mine? Ah. Best not to think of it.”

“We could learn it, now that we have no sides to follow,” Aziraphale suggested. “I’m sure demons dance sometimes, we could make dancing of some kind part of _our_ side, don’t you think?”

Crowley briefly thought of the dances some of the younger demons had introduced in the past decades, and then tried to imagine Aziraphale doing that. He was certain the angel’s hips couldn’t move like that, and even in his head he winced sympathetically at the thought of his angel even trying.

“You wouldn’t like it,” Crowley drawled, returning his attention to his notes. He was sure he’d seen Aziraphale moult before, there should be a few feathers in nooks and crannies of the bookshop.

Aziraphale was quiet for a few moments, but eventually Crowley heard him move back into the depths of his shelves, feet dragging slightly.

*

To say that Aziraphale was at a loss would be putting it mildly.

For centuries, millennia even, Aziraphale had gotten by with nothing at all, only the occasional furtive glance, a brush of fingers with hands quickly pulled away lest they were tempted to linger. It had been more than enough, more than was allowed.

Yet the longing for Crowley’s hands on his body and his sweet wordless declarations of love was approaching real corporal pain. Aziraphale yearned for the kisses to his skin, the touches that left no doubt about their relationship, the unquestionably romantic outings in the city.

Crowley was right there, in his bookshop, smiled and called him sweet names. He was ever present in a way that would have been unthinkable even just a year ago. And yet Aziraphale felt lonelier than he ever had, now that he’d gotten a taste.

It wasn’t as if Crowley was neglecting him as such, Aziraphale simply couldn’t figure out how to let his lover know of his needs. For as long as they’d known each other Crowley anticipated his angel’s desires, read his glances and subtle suggestions and gave him just what he wished for, within the bounds of what was allowed. Aziraphale had never known how to outright ask for things. Angels weren’t supposed to covet, weren’t supposed to want things. Even now, officially retired from Heaven, Aziraphale struggled with expressing what he wanted, what he needed. Something to work on, he knew, but it was a habit predating even life on earth. It wasn’t so easy to shake.

Things had been going just fine at first. The obvious displays of affection had slowly crept out of the bedroom and into the privacy of the bookshop and Crowley’s flat, and had started to seep into their interactions outside as well. Then Crowley had one day mentioned having something to do in his flat before disappearing for several weeks! Aziraphale had worried, of course, but couldn’t find it in him to blame the demon for this. Hadn’t he himself secluded himself with a new book for much longer than that before, leaving Crowley by himself? It would have been quite hypocritical of him to be cross.

The worry and need to at least hear Crowley’s voice had finally won out over Aziraphale’s fear that he might be crowding the demon, and that a little privacy was needed. He had also worried that Crowley would sleep for an awfully long time again as well. When Crowley readily agreed to meet up as if no time had passed at all Aziraphale had been relieved at first.

But then Crowley had settled in the bookshop and somehow his presence made the lack of touches worse.

Crowley had his demonic work, of course, much as Aziraphale still liked to bless and inspire people when the fancy struck him. He wasn’t reacting at all to Aziraphale’s advance though. Hints at wishing to share the couch with him to perhaps cuddle were ignored, offers to share a meal and have the demon hand feed him weren’t paid attention to, and hints at perhaps dancing or listening to music or taking a walk were gently denied. Crowley hadn’t even made a single attempt to sleep with Aziraphale or indicated that Aziraphale’s pitiful attempts to initiate were received at all. He had even refused to go out for a meal, citing the horrid weather outside, though at that point Aziraphale was no longer sure what was an excuse to spare his feelings and what wasn’t.

Not wishing to do the sappier aspects of a romantic relationship was something Aziraphale could understand. It was hard to just settle like that, and Crowley sometimes still bristled at suggestions that he was somewhat undemonic. But surely carnal activities were fine? Aziraphale had it in good authority that Crowley enjoyed sex, and enjoyed it with Aziraphale specifically. The sudden disinterest was worrying.

Aziraphale sat on his bed, sadly untouched by demons in recent times. His fingers worried at the cuffs of his shirt as he thought of what to do. He wanted to be held, to be kissed and adored, but lacking that he knew he could fulfil his need to feel love with sex just as well. If only he knew how to indicate to Crowley that he wanted to.

Seduction had never once been a skill Aziraphale knew about. He had mingled with humans who might have taught him, before, though he knew the methods learned were positively archaic by now. At the time seduction hadn’t been on his mind at all. What was the point in figuring out how to get a partner into bed when he hadn’t passed the point of courtly love and coquettish flirtation? He’d been far more interested in learning how to indicate romantic affection in ways that still fell within the lines of plausible deniability, wishing to show Crowley his adoration without risking discovery.

There had been so many tips and tricks to get a husband to remember his marital duties, to spice things up, to indicate desire. Why hadn’t he paid attention then? Of course, there were still people to ask today, but Aziraphale did not wish to let his human friends know of his desires when he couldn’t even bring himself to voice them to Crowley.

Usually Aziraphale just needed to hint hard enough for Crowley to initiate anything himself, he didn’t know how to do it himself. Subtle requests for Crowley to join him in bed probably weren’t obvious enough after all.

What he needed to do then, it seemed, was to make himself appear so desirable that Crowley would get in the mood all by himself, so to speak.

Aziraphale sighed and thought of what to do. Crowley seemed to find him quite appealing in his usual attire before, but that just wouldn’t do now, it seemed. Settling in Crowley’s personal space might work, but Aziraphale wasn’t sure how to proceed. Of course he could just start touching and kissing, but that would be too forward, and awkward if Crowley rebuked his advance if he wasn’t in the mood. Shedding a few layers of clothes might work, but Aziraphale was quite comfortable as he was, and it was getting cold these days. He blushed at the thought of putting on something revealing and sliding up into Crowley’s line of sight. Definitely something to try out, but perhaps more as part of their intimate moments rather than an attempt to initiate one.

His eyes fell on the downy pillows on his bed, and Aziraphale remembered a moment a few days ago, when he’d seen Crowley sneakily tuck a white feather into his pocket.

Oh.

But Crowley was rather fond of Aziraphale’s wings, wasn’t he.

With a slight blush Aziraphale let them slip out into reality, rolling his shoulders as he spread and stretched them. It was a little much for an angel to just walk about with his wings spread like this, even in Heaven wings were usually kept tucked away neatly unless needed. But he was in his own home, his little nest so to speak, and only Crowley would be there to see. This was really something private between two partners, it would be all right.

Aziraphale stood, emboldened by his decision. Wings tucked against his body as not to knock anything over he made his way down into the main part of the bookshop. Crowley was still on his armchair where Aziraphale had left him, legs thrown over the armrest and the back, sprawled out with paper covering his chest, pencils tucked behind his ear and eyes unfocused as he was deep in thought.

With a last deep breath to brace himself Aziraphale stepped out into view, letting his wings spread. Walking seductively and swaying his hips wasn’t something his body did naturally, so Aziraphale had to focus on that as well. He hoped that it didn’t look too ridiculous, but Crowley already looked so nice when he walked like that.

Crowley did indeed look up from where he was sitting, eyes covered by sunglasses. At the distance Aziraphale couldn’t tell if there was interest in them or no. His lips twitched in a coy smile and he angled his wings so that the light was hitting them just so, showing off the pure white of his feathers.

“New look?” Crowley asked, eyebrows creeping up on his face.

“Oh you know,” Aziraphale said as he leaned against a small table in a way that he hoped was seductive. “Through all this time I barely ever let my wings out, so I thought it might be nice to show them off. Let them breathe, let them loose.”

He ran his finger over the surface of the table, trying hard to ignore the feel of dust against his skin. He’d have to reassess the level of dishevelment his shop was in very soon. After the matter at hand, of course.

Crowley’s head shifted as he took in Aziraphale’s wings, spread as wide as they could possibly go in the cramped space between bookshelves.

“Yeah?”

“They are quite nice wings, don’t you think so?” Aziraphale prompted. He spread his wings further, pretending not to notice the way they bumped against books and furniture. Nothing was dislodged, thankfully.

Crowley watched for a few moments longer before returning to his damned notes.

“If it’s comfortable, sure. I’m not sure I’d like mine just out and about. Got used to tucking them away after all.”

Aziraphale waited with bated breath, but the demon didn’t return his attention to him at all. He hadn’t so much as shifted in his seat, or done anything to indicate that he was affected by the sight. Aziraphale tried hard not to let his disappointment show, and resisted the urge to hide his wings protectively once more. Surely it just needed time! Crowley was so enamoured with them, he couldn’t ignore the sight forever! Eventually he would come and flirt and suggest and take Aziraphale upstairs and kiss him once more. At the very least touch him tenderly.

So Aziraphale waited. Any time it seemed that Crowley might pay attention to him and the shop was closed, the wings would be on display. He made sure to let it seem as casual as possible, unsure how to indicate that this was an attempt to seduce. What did one even do with wings anyway? It wasn’t something a human would have to worry about in flirting.

And yet, despite everything, Crowley seemed about as aroused as a hibernating snake. It was something Aziraphale even considered, briefly, that it was just the weather that had Crowley so disinterested. But no, hesitant inquiries about the weather and Crowley’s state of mind confirmed that Crowley wasn’t affected by the looming winter, and merely seemed to not be interested in Aziraphale at all.

In the privacy of the bookshop’s deepest corners Aziraphale permitted himself the gnaw of fear and despair. Crowley barely even flirted with him anymore. He was kind, and sweet when spoken to, but he rarely initiated even that.

A few months had passed since their relationship had started, and Aziraphale wondered if that had been it. Six millennia of desiring and wanting the forbidden, and now it had burned out within less than a year. Had Crowley lost interest because the charm of what he couldn’t have had worn off? Did he perhaps not care as much now that he could have Aziraphale fully whenever he wished?

It was terribly unkind of Aziraphale to even think this, but it didn’t lessen the fear that this might be true. Why else was Crowley pulling away from him so suddenly? There had been no indication of Crowley not enjoying every single newfound aspect of their relationship before. Now it seemed that the sweet subtle flirting of the past had gone with everything else, leaving Aziraphale lonelier than ever before.

He wouldn’t give up, not easily at least. If Crowley outright pushed him away Aziraphale would go, would take it in stride and learn how to live with whatever remained of their relationship. But until then he would not give up.

So Aziraphale would breathe in deep, push aside the treacherous fear every single time it bubbled up, and resolutely ignored how his heart clenched in his chest, as if fearing an impending break.

*

Crowley was stuck, but that had happened before. No need to give up, even if most of his notes currently were doodles of a rather messed up bacteria somebody in the star division had put on a far off planet when everyone had been rather bored in between tasks. It had been one of his favourite things to witness the others do while he was still an angel with a mission, and his favourite art subject when deep in thought.

Occasionally he would even nap, eyes never closing though his sunglasses hid them anyway.

He was napping when a dull crash from somewhere behind him alerted him, nearly making him fall out of his ridiculous sprawl over the armchair. He glanced over to see Aziraphale, his wings apparently knocking over yet another pile of books. It had been happening a lot recently, with Aziraphale deciding to display his wings despite the inconvenience caused.

“Oh bugger,” he muttered as Crowley watched him miracle the books back into their specific arrangement on top of a bookshelf.

“You really should tuck your wings back in, angel,” Crowley said, getting comfortable again. “It’s a bit tight in here, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale looked up, face full of sorrow for some reason. He watched Crowley for a few moments before turning away, his wings disappearing with a snap of wind. His shoulders were curled forward and he looked so vulnerable like that, making Crowley want to reach out and comfort.

“My dear,” Aziraphale said quietly, voice uncertain. “Do you still- Ah. Do you still wish to be with me? For us to be in a romantic involvement or a physical one?”

Crowley froze, frantically trying to remember if Aziraphale had made any indication that he wanted him to leave. Any hint Crowley had missed for his presence to no longer be desired.

He sat up straight, feet touching the ground.

“What do you mean, angel?” he asked, voice close to a hiss.

Aziraphale looked up at him, and he looked utterly heartbroken. If Crowley wasn’t getting the suspicion that he was to blame he’d be up and searching for the bastard who dared upset his angel.

“You don’t seem to want me anymore, dear,” the angel explained. “I completely understand if perhaps you just aren’t in the mood to do anything, you don’t need to do anything you don’t want for my own desires. But you don’t seem to want _anything_ at all. Not just the intimacy, but the little things that came so naturally to us. As if you don’t-” his voice cracked “-love me anymore.”

At once Crowley was on his feet and stalked over to Aziraphale, as close as he dared without crowding his angel in.

“Angel, what brought this on,” he asked, tense all over, wanting to strike but unsure at what. He’d really messed up hellishly if his angel thought this of him. “Of course I love you! You know that, I’ve done it for millennia now!”

Aziraphale’s lips twitched in a sad smile. He turned towards Crowley fully, though he curled his arms in front of his chest, holding himself nervously.

“I know you did, darling. But it’s one thing to want something you can’t have. Sometimes one decides they do not want it after all, once they have it. You don’t. You don’t hold me, or kiss me.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed as he struggled to talk about his feelings so openly. He always preferred to talk around them, ignore his hurts. He didn’t express them very well, usually.

“It is difficult to just jump into sharing affection openly, I know this. Yet I always felt so cherished when you made love to me, Crowley. It pains me now that you don’t seem to want to do anything at all anymore. Not even- We don’t even go out for lunch anymore. That was always the closest we could get to showing each other what we felt, and now there’s not even that.”

Crowley let out a soft groan, half a whine really, and decided that Aziraphale didn’t need his personal space right this moment. He closed the distance quickly, pressing against Aziraphale and cupping his face with his hands, heart aching as he saw the wet shine in Aziraphale’s eyes.

“That’s not it, I promise! I want to do all of these things, angel, of course I do!”

“It’s quite alright if you don’t desire me physically anymore,” Aziraphale said, voice firm though his eyes betrayed him. “It happens, I won’t hold it against you.”

“That’s a load of crap and you know it!” Crowley hissed. Desperate to prove his angel wrong he wrapped his arms around his warm body, pressing kisses to his forehead and cheeks. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I do you. Is it about dates? I’m so sorry, I got in my head I forgot about- How about we go to the opera? Just us two and a lovely night out, how about it, angel?”

Aziraphale frowned, his arms finally falling to his sides and then holding on to Crowley.

“It really didn’t seem like you were just distracted, darling,” he muttered, though being held and feeling kisses against his skin must have done the trick to cheer him up at least a little. “I’m not good at letting you know what I want, I know that. The way you acted really felt a little bit like you were rejecting advances.”

“I didn’t notice,” Crowley promised. “If I’d known you wanted to do things I would-”

Here he paused. Would he have? Even before his attempts to figure things out Crowley had tried hard not to go to Aziraphale every single time he wanted to. To deny himself a chance to follow through on his desires and take Aziraphale to bed. Hadn’t he decided that it was best to limit the risk until he knew how great it was for sure?

Aziraphale noticed the hesitation, of course. He leaned closer, into the touch, arms tightening as if he wanted to keep Crowley from bolting, as if that was a risk.

“Is something wrong, sweetheart? There is something bothering you about this after all, isn’t there?”

Crowley pressed his lips together, biting down on the inside of them hard. He couldn’t just blurt out what worried him, right? That he wanted to get rid of any trace of Hell that clung to his skin to make sure he wouldn’t somehow end up hurting Aziraphale through innocent touches and his mere presence. The entire exercise had been one of preventing harm to befall his angel. Did it really matter if his attempts to fix the physical problems had ended up hurting Aziraphale and making him feel rejected?

“I worry about what it’ll do to you,” Crowley finally admitted after a brief struggle to get the words out.

Aziraphale stared at him quizzically, waiting for him to go on. He’d let Crowley flail and say it all out loud, the bastard.

“Cause I’ve been in Hell, yes?” Crowley went on, raising his hands to demonstrate. “All that Hell stuff is all over me. It’s not something angels should be exposed to! Me touching you is getting all that shit on you, on your corporal body, and your celestial body. It’s not Hellfire but it _will_ hurt you.”

“It will hurt me?”

“Yes!” Crowley exclaimed, glad that he didn’t have to elaborate on that. “That’s why I’ve been trying to figure out how to test how much there’s left on me. I’m not planning to go back to Hell for a check in any time soon, so it should eventually rub off. And there should be ways to use protection or check how I can touch you so it won’t actually end up hurting you! That’s why I’ve been so busy with stuff. There’s no precedent of angels and demons doing what we do, so I’ve got to figure it all out by myself.”

Aziraphale stared for a few moments, thinking it through. Crowley tried not to smile triumphantly, hoping that his angel would come to the correct conclusion of Crowley obviously wanting him very much, but their coupling being a bit of a risk. Any moment now he’d drop his arms and step away, agreeing with Crowley and making a plan on how to still show their love to each other while minimizing actual contact.

Instead Aziraphale laughed, his arms squeezing Crowley harder as he went slack with surprise.

“Oh my darling, is that really what’s been on your mind?”

“What’s so funny about my reasonable worries?” Crowley muttered, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

Aziraphale was completely relaxed now, smiling up at him mirthfully.

“Because they’re not very reasonable at all.”

“Course they are! Hell stuff can hurt you,” Crowley said petulantly.

“Then have you been worried about my, ah, ‘Heaven Stuff’ hurting you in turn?”

Crowley had no reply for that. Of course it hadn’t crossed his mind that Aziraphale could hurt him. He was an angel; such a nice being who threw a minor fit each time he had to intentionally hurt despite also being a ruthless heavenly warrior when he needed to be. Or when he felt a bit moody. There was no holy water on him after all.

“Is this why you wanted me to display my wings when we were coupling?” Aziraphale asked, realization dawning. “You wanted to see the only celestial part of me that’s easy to observe to check for hurt?”

Crowley nodded reluctantly.

“I kept being distracted by wondering what’s too much and what’s fine. Seeing them kind of reassured me you were fine, in the moment at least.”

A snap, and pure white wings filled his vision once more. Aziraphale gently took hold of Crowley’s wrists and pulled his hands upwards towards his wings.

“You didn’t ever hurt me, intentionally or otherwise. Here, check for yourself.”

Crowley stiffened, shaking his head subtly.

“I don’t want to jinx it.”

Aziraphale sighed, loosening his grip somewhat but not letting go of Crowley’s hands.

“My darling, you do know that I have actually personally been to Hell, yes? I was in your body but I very much entered the halls downstairs and had my entire celestial being in there. I sat completely unguarded in front of hoards of demons, and Michael was there was well. Do you really think an archangel would risk getting hurt if being in Hell was a problem?”

Crowley whimpered quietly, despite himself. He hated the thought of Aziraphale alone in Hell, even as he’d gone to Heaven in his stead, ready to face anything. He’d been to Heaven before everything changed, before the Beginning, he’d known what to expect somewhat. Aziraphale had been completely unprepared for Hell.

“I don’t want to think about you in Hell.”

Aziraphale smiled, leaning in until their noses bumped together.

“I’d go to Hell for you any day. It didn’t hurt me, love, and I highly doubt your touch is in any way worse than those corridors were.”

Finally Crowley let his hands be guided until his palms met downy feathers. He let out a gasp, tensing in expectation of corruption spreading through the wings and flexing his fingers at the silky softness. Aziraphale gasped as well, clearly enjoying the touch.

“See? They’re not hurt at all. They won’t be, I promise you that. Do you trust me, my darling?”

Crowley swallowed hard, digging his hands in very carefully and keeping his touch gentle even as he wanted to touch more of Aziraphale’s wings. He felt himself relax, a weight lifting off his heart as he saw his angel unharmed by his touch.

“Of course I do.”

The wings curled around them, hiding them in a cocoon of white and nudging Crowley forward until he was close enough to be pulled into a kiss. It was the softest thing, Aziraphale’s lips rivalling even his perfect feathers. It wasn’t chaste as such, but deep and slow and both of them pouring all their affection for one another into the touch. Aziraphale’s embrace, the touch of his wings, the desire surging in him and lapping at Crowley’s skin, were searing hot against him.

“You know, I just thought you had a _thing_ for my wings,” Aziraphale laughed as he trailed kisses down Crowley’s cheek and towards his neck. His hands had crept up to undo the buttons of Crowley’s shirt.

“What- thing?”

“Like you were very much attracted to them,” Aziraphale said, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Crowley felt his cheeks heat up at that.

“Wasn’t like that! I was just worried.”

“So you are saying that you _don’t_ have a thing for my wings?”

“I...didn’t say _that_…”

His hands left Aziraphale’s wings and landed on his hips, tugging at the shirt currently tucked into his belt. Again Aziraphale’s hands curled around his wrists, stilling Crowley’s movements.

“Let me, darling, I would like to do this for you.”

Crowley didn’t protest when he was lowered to the ground, Aziraphale’s hands and the push of wings all over him kind of making it hard to move anywhere else anyway. His shirt was off before their knees were on the ground, and the feeling of cool feathers against bare feverish skin made Crowley moan. He wasn’t even making an effort right that moment, but the heat was burning on his neck and in the crook of his thighs.

He was ridiculously sensitive where he was touched, the combination of feathers, Aziraphale’s hot mouth on his chest and soft hands moving over his skin too much all at once. He was certain he’d burn up before they even got to do anything at all.

“See,” Aziraphale said as his strong arms lowered Crowley to the ground, laying him out on the plush carpet. “We’re doing all this and yet there’s not a speck of corruption in my wings.”

Said wings had briefly unwound from around Crowley and were now hovering a little above him. They really were unblemished, a little ruffled here and there perhaps, but still exactly as an angel’s wings ought to look like.

Usually Crowley would be taking part in the proceedings by now, touching Aziraphale and making sure he felt loved. Now though his arms were gently pushed down onto the ground as well, before Aziraphale moved on to undo his belt.

“Let me show you, dearest. There’s nothing we could do that would hurt me.”

Crowley swallowed hard as the feathers brushed all over his arms and chest, each touch both cool and burning at once. He barely remembered that Aziraphale would need something to work with once the jeans were off, and the sudden manifestation of a cock, already painfully hard, knocked a moan out of him.

Aziraphale gave Crowley a pleased smile as he noticed the change. He quickly undid the button and zipper, one arm wrapping around the small of Crowley’s back as he pulled down everything at once. No miracle was used for that minor display of strength, though Crowley willed himself completely naked the moment Aziraphale let go of his jeans.

“What a lovely treat,” Aziraphale murmured, and Crowley let out a choked off scream as soft lips were pressed to the tip of his cock, quickly followed by a warm tongue licking a stripe across the length of him.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, hips bucking up. “Angel!”

“Relax, darling, just enjoy yourself. You were so worried about me, I’m really quite moved.”

Crowley nodded faintly. The warm mouth returned to his cock, as did Aziraphale’s hands where they held onto his hips loosely, and Crowley was enjoying the sensations too much to be embarrassed by the soft cries and whimpers he let out.

He didn’t dare move as Aziraphale set to work, swallowing him down and switching up his motions at a leisurely pace, humming and moaning as he clearly enjoyed himself. Normally Crowley would scramble or hold on to something, dig his fingers into Aziraphale’s hair or move his hips where he wanted them to be. Now he felt somehow too relaxed, too boneless to do anything at all. His hands curled against the carpet and while his hips twitched lightly he barely moved.

For a blowjob that drove him to the edge so quickly it was weirdly soothing, gentle even. Aziraphale was slow but not teasing or trying to drag it out, nor was he trying to speed things along. He was merely making sure that Crowley was having as great a time as possible without any urgency.

Crowley could barely keep his eyes open in the face of all of that. There wasn’t much to see anyway, Aziraphale had stretched his wings over him completely, blocking out everything that wasn’t warm light falling through white wings, and the sight of Aziraphale working on him if he glanced down.

It felt like every inch of his body was touched by the angel in some way, his legs and lower half pressed against the warm softness of Aziraphale’s body, with Aziraphale’s hands alternating between stroking his stomach and his legs when they weren’t working on his cock. Everything else was shielded by the wings.

It occurred to Crowley that anyone walking in on them wouldn’t be able to spot him at all, only seeing Aziraphale crouched over something completely hidden by his wings. He was mantling Crowley, keeping him completely out of sight and shielding him all at once.

Crowley felt his entire body shiver at the realization that Aziraphale had him so completely that he was practically screaming _mine_ with his posture, just as he was practically glowing with love.

It didn’t take much more than that for Crowley to reach his peak. His entire body tensed, back arching off the floor as his lips parted in a soundless cry, fingers clenching on nothing. Aziraphale sucked gently, riding him out and not letting a single drop spill as Crowley came, letting go just at the right moment before more would become too much on his sensitive body.

Crowley breathed hard, feeling completely boneless. He felt the feathers retreat, but only for a moment, until Aziraphale lay down beside him and wrapped him in his arms. The wings returned, covering Crowley like a blanket now. He didn’t need to look to know they would be as pristine as they had been before.

“See?” Aziraphale said anyway. “I don’t think there’s anything else you could do to harm me.”

“I wanted to keep you out’f harm’s way,” Crowley slurred, his tongue not quite obeying him yet.

Aziraphale kissed the corner of his mouth, causing him to smile.

“You always guarded me, my darling. It’s alright, there’s nothing left that you need to protect me from. Let me take care of you now.”

“I love you,” Crowley said, looking over at Aziraphale with as earnest an expression as he could manage. Aziraphale’s soft smile in return reassured him that those simple words had conveyed all that he needed them to for now. He would say more, _do_ more once his brain caught up with him again.

“And I you, my love.”

Crowley relaxed against Aziraphale’s hold, feeling both too sleepy and sated to move and like the bookshop floor wasn’t the right place for this. He’d carry Aziraphale upstairs, later. He really ought to, it would only be right. Once he’d rest a little.

After a few moments Aziraphale laughed again.

“I really did think that you were attracted to my wings, dear boy. It was a bit out there, wasn’t it? Such a weirdly specific thing to be into.”

Crowley blinked slowly, thinking about how overwhelming the sensation of Aziraphale’s wings had been on top of everything else. He glanced down at the wing currently covering him, and felt like it had joined the same list that contained Aziraphale’s consumption of dessert in public. At least the wings weren’t something he needed to brace himself for witnessing quite as often.

“Yeah, funny isn’t it,” Crowley chuckled.

He would tell Aziraphale about that particular revelation. Later, but certainly as soon as Crowley trusted himself to keep his composure about the entire business.


End file.
